


Swords to Rust, Hearts to Dust

by fowo



Category: Dishonored (Video Game)
Genre: M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Rating May Change, Slow Build, also hints of Daud/Thomas, corvo doesn't make an appearance for quite a while, everything very minor though, hints of Corvo/Jessamine
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-11-26
Updated: 2016-01-26
Packaged: 2018-05-03 01:26:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 9,940
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5271362
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fowo/pseuds/fowo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When the Royal Protector goes missing, Daud trusts nobody but himself to look for him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Daud had been dreaming of the Void recently. That in itself wasn't unusual, but when he fell out of the Outsider's favor—he told himself it didn't bother him, but he still wondered _why_ —the frequency had dropped significantly. These days though, more often than not, should he ever drift to sleep, instead of being a sole spectator to his nightmares, he found himself surrounded by the beginning and end of all things.

 He blinked wearily, standing on a rock that was floating mid-air or... mid-nothing, really, and the water that was pouring upside from tubes beneath his feet made him wonder if maybe he was the one who was upside-down. He looked around, but he couldn't find the black-eyed bastard anywhere, just rubble and ruins and shards of reality. Usually when he fell into the Void, the deity would be there waiting for him, ready to taunt him, but now he found himself to be alone.

 Thinking that this was one of his silly games, and knowing that opposing the deity was useless, Daud had no choice but to play along. The Outsider loved to tease him, after all, and watch Daud get agitated because he hated it.

 It was tricky to travel over the rubble, finding his balance barely on tumbling rocks that floated through the air, his foothold tiny under his coarse boots. One small isle that he blinked to was rotating so wildly after he stepped on it, tipping it out of balance, that he clung to the flickering street lamp on it until it settled down, just to be safe.

 He looked around, trying to make out where he was supposed to go. There was nothing. He was getting nowhere. He might as well swim in a glass bowl like a fish. "Playtime's over," he barked, thinking the Outsider would find it hilarious to see him lose his temper like this, but at this point, he didn't care. He was tired and exhausted. He hadn't actually rested in a long while. The eerie sounds of the Void gnawed at his mind like rat teeth on his bones. It was bad enough to hear the singing and humming of runes every waking minute; dictating him to find them and keep them for himself. He didn't need the distant song of the whales, too. "Show yourself already. What do you want?"

 But nothing but his own heartbeat answered him, his pulse hammering in his ears.

 When he woke up, the mattress he slept on and his clothes were soaked with sweat. Everything always was in the Flooded District; you were never really dry around here, and he couldn't remember the last time he had slept peacefully. He had stopped caring about either a long while ago.

 It wasn't even dawn, but Daud refused to try and go back to sleep. He roused with a growl, sitting up in the dark to push his fingers through his hair and waited until his breathing calmed. The mark on his hand tingled and itched, and he scratched at it irritably before he swung his legs off the flimsy bed. The floor was cold under his naked feet as he walked down the stairs and past his poor little excuse of an office. Since Brigmore, it had changed; the wanted posters were gone now, and he had tossed the collection out the window for the water to take. Now, only a picture of the Empress hung on the wall, not crossed out, her stern look judging him and towering over him when he sat at his desk. Thomas had gently asked if it was a good idea to be reminded of her every day like this, but Daud had cut him short with a curt gesture and said nothing on the matter.

 The halls outside were dark, but that was hardly surprising. If his idea of time wasn't completely off, sentries at this hour in the Chamber of Commerce were Akila and Misha. He didn't get to see either of them, but he expected nothing less. Had he spotted them, it meant they did a horrible job and he would have scolded them, and Rulfio for their shit training.

 He knew his way around even in the dark, knew where he could tread and where better to blink. He crossed collapsed floors and walls and made his way to the kitchen. It was makeshift, the stove and sink part of a tiny pantry that accountants had used as their break room in a building that was otherwise used to see little free time, much less accommodate human needs. When they had first moved into the Flooded District, they had torn down the door to the rooms next to it, and collected chairs and tables from every building around them to accommodate all of them. There was no less than forty of them at any given time; more, now, with the plague, and everyone losing their loved ones. Sometimes, someone left on their own, but most of the time, they didn't until death made them.

 Daud had made many mistakes in his life. Bringing up the Whalers, strays like him, and giving them something to do with their restless hands, was the one thing he didn't regret, nevermind the things it had lead to.

 In the stove, the last embers of a fire were a distant remnant of dinner together. Taking the poker off the wall to get a fire going to fight against the cold, Daud filled a kettle with water from one of the bottles with clean water. Most waterworks in the Flooded District were broken, and he had to send a few Whalers go collect water to drink safely every other day or so. His dreams—and he told himself that dreams they had to be—had him craving something to ease his nerves, and he knew that whiskey and cigars were a nasty bad habit.

 So he settled for tea.

 He had barely poured boiling water over a handful of leaves, cheap imported stuff from Morley, when he heard the soft, shifting noise of someone appearing in the kitchen.

 "You're up surprisingly early," Thomas said behind him. Without turning, Daud grabbed a second cup to make tea for his second-in-command. Thomas watched with respectful distance. "Bad dreams again?" he inquired finally, not without adding, "Sir."

 Daud snorted. It was very much like Thomas to be nosy, and still pretend to be polite about it. "I would prefer nightmares over the Void," he answered, turning with two chipped and browned cups on his hands. He settled on one of the benches and jerked his head to sign Thomas to do the same. Only after the invitation did Thomas actually step near, took off the whaling mask, and joined him. Daud pushed the cup over the table and Thomas took it with a soft thanks. "Can't recall assigning you patrol at this kind of hour," Daud said suspiciously.

 "You didn't," Thomas answered, taking off his gloves so he could cradle his cup between his hands. "But I wanted to make sure everything is alright."

 "You've gotten paranoid since the Lord Protector made it past you without you noticing," Daud said, and there was just the slightest idea of a grin on the corner of his mouth. The Whalers had been a mix of offended and impressed that a single man had taken them out on his own, but Thomas had definitely not taken it well to wake up a few hours later, scrunched into a ball in a corner, hurting everywhere with a sleep dart to his thigh with Daud gently slapping his cheek.

 Thomas half-shrugged, blowing his tea. "I realize I'm no match for a man like him, but that doesn't mean that I can't better myself." He sipped his tea carefully. "Should something like that happen again, there's no guarantee that it will not cost you your life this time. I'd rather not have to wash your blood off the walls."

 "The business the bodyguard and I had is settled," Daud countered. "I would be very surprised to cross paths with him again."

 Thomas nodded a little. In the silence that followed, Daud was aware that he was looking at him watchfully from half-lidded eyes. Daud was in no hurry to press for what was bothering him. Thomas' loyalty was carved into his bones, and he was very good at hiding his cheekiness under his polite tone and words. But that didn't stop him from having an opinion, and since the incident with Billie, he had gotten bolder about it, too. Daud appreciated it. He didn't want to work with people who talked behind his back and didn't want to confront him. He needed them to be upfront, and that meant he had probably deserved the one time when Rulfio hit him in the face so hard he wore the imprint of his knuckles on his jaw for two weeks. Rulfio, of course, was sent away to do lowly scouting far away from the hideout, but when he came home after his correction, they looked each other in the eye, nodded curtly in agreement, and everything had gone back to normal.

 "Permission to speak freely, sir?" Thomas asked.

 Daud grunted. It could've meant anything. Thomas took it as a yes.

 "I worry, sir," he said carefully, leaning back when Daud raised his eyebrows. "I know the business with the late Empress worries you, and then the affair with Billie, and the witches... It's been a crazy year, that much is for sure." He showed a crooked smile. "I was honestly expecting you would let Attano cut your throat."

 "Well, I didn't, did I," Daud said gruffly. It might have been better. Maybe it would have been better to just end it all. But instead, he had asked—begged—for his life. And now here he was, with the yoke of life on his shoulders to add to the ball and chain of death.

 Thomas dipped his head down between his shoulders at his tone and stared into his steaming cup. "I just worry, sir... This isn't the end of the Whalers, is it?"

 Daud stared at his lieutenant for a moment. He knew Thomas had worried about this for months, but had been too shy or polite to address it directly. Having him ask like this was a little surprising, but probably meant that Thomas had reached his limit. He grunted and raised his own cup.

 "Of course not," he said, and he almost felt bad for lying when he saw Thomas smile.

 He regarded the boy for a moment; how old might he be, in his early or mid twenties? No older than thirty, surely. It was hard to tell. Thomas had a young face, but his eyes had the depth of someone who had taken countless lives with his hands. His hair might have been blond once, but Dunwall's grime and soot had dulled the hue. Dunwall made people age faster, it seemed. But Daud remembered being young, being full of dreams and ambition. Now, almost two decades later, more often than not be found himself thinking how he missed Serkonos' olive trees and sandy beaches, how he hated Gristol's rain and mist, and how changes in the weather made his scar itch like on the first day after having his face cut in half.

 But these kids—he called them that regardless of their age, and many of them _were_ children, the youngest whaler was nine—needed someone to guide them, because otherwise, they would end up like him. Dunwall swallowed the weak right up and would corrupt everyone who made the mistake of stepping too close.

 And that was the last thing he wanted. Nobody deserved to suffer like he had.

 Maybe Thomas was right. Maybe he had to pull himself together. He wouldn't live to see sixty in this world, anyway. What were ten, fifteen more years after the life he'd lived? He owed them this much, and Thomas' glistening blue eyes reinforced him. He wanted to leave, he had wanted to ever since the Empress. He told himself he would retire; tomorrow, or the day after that, or the following week. But he was probably going to get up in the mornings with a knife under his pillow for the rest of his life, and probably die with a blade in his hand, too.

 "You lot wouldn't be able to wipe your arse after taking a shit without me," he said gruffly, and he hated that Thomas smiled again.

 

* * *

Even without killing, there was enough work for them to do. Apart from daily chores, Daud liked to know what was going on in the empire. He still had his men patrolling the rooftops in the various districts, keeping an eye on gang movement, gathering information for himself and others, earning and asking favors here and there. He liked to be in control of things. And of course, he was still a wanted man.

 Clearing Corvo's name had been the first thing young Lady Emily had decreed. She had held a speech—Daud had listened to her voice through the public speakers by the old port district, sitting on a window sill—clarifying that despite what the former Lord Regents had said, Corvo had tried to protect the late Empress but failed. He would be pardoned from all accusations, and resume his post as her Lord Protector. Daud's name wasn't mentioned. Emily said "group of unknown assailants". Daud had sat in silence, and wondered.

 Corvo had spared his life when he had the chance to avenge his Empress. Corvo spared him again now by keeping the truth to himself. Daud was sure Burrows sat in his cell in Coldridge, screaming that it was the Knife of Dunwall who had killed the Empress, but who would listen to him now? Besides, the city knew it wouldn't catch the man who it hadn't been able to catch for the last twenty years. Daud was as much a shadow to the common man as the Outsider was.

 "Sir?" a voice interrupted his thoughts.

 He looked up, staring at his portrait of the Empress with puzzlement for a second. He collected himself, and looked down again. He had a cigarette in his hand that he vaguely remembered lighting before sitting down, but he hadn't brought it to his lips even once. Now it was nothing more than a butt, ashes littered over his pants. He flicked them away, took a last drag of what was left and slid off his desk.

 "Yes, Thomas?" he asked as he turned to face the room and rounded his desk. Thomas came closer, shifting. He had his arms behind his back as he came to stand still, but it was easy to tell from how tense he stood at attention that something was up. Daud raised both eyebrows. " _Yes_ , Thomas?" he asked again when no answer came.

 "Sir," his lieutenant began, then hesitated. "Today was the shift change at Dunwall Tower," he said.

 Daud leaned against the desk and waving his hand inquiringly, leaving circles of smoke. "I'm aware," he said. "And?"

 "Well, the _good_ news is, Dimitri's and Javier's groups have returned safely, and have been replaced by Quinn's and Aleksander's, as scheduled," Thomas said, suddenly hurriedly as if he wanted to get it over with quickly.

 Daud groaned a little. "And the _bad_ news?"

 He could tell Thomas made a face under the mask. "You better listen to this for yourself, sir," Thomas said.

 He half-turned, gesturing towards the high glass-doors that Daud noticed were left ajar, as if to allow someone to overhear their conversation. With a shift, Dimitri and Javier appeared into the office. Both Whalers bowed their head in a quick greeting and respect when Thomas stepped aside. Dimitri was the one in charge of the returned group of Whalers surveying Dunwall Tower, with Javier as his second.

 "I'm all ears," Daud said, putting his cigarette out in an ashtray and crossing his arms over his chest. "I hope you didn't screw up."

 "No, sir," Dimitri said hurriedly.

 Their objective was mainly to scout, overhear conversations and gather information, keep an eye on everyone. After everything with Delilah, Daud wanted Emily safe. He knew Corvo would guard her like a wild animal and he had told the Whalers that if he would spot one of them, it would probably not end well. Nevertheless, he wanted his men present at Dunwall Tower. Twenty-one men saw and heard more than just one Lord Protector, no matter how skilled he was. Daud would probably go himself, but coming too near to Dunwall Tower made him feel uneasy. He wouldn't outright say it, but the Whalers probably had the right idea about things, and didn't ask.

 "The Lady Emily is safe," Dimitri continued. "Considering how much she is complaining about her education, I assume boredom is the only harm done to her."

 Daud relaxed just a little bit with the confirmation. Dimitri was from Tyvia, and spoke with a thick accent despite all the years he had been with the Whalers. He had earned himself the blue uniform not so long ago for carrying out a gig against the Bottle Street Gang, and saving a number of younger members in the process. It had been a mess, and would have become bloody for both sides had it not been for his quick acting. Daud had been impressed, and told him so as he threw a blue uniform at him the next day. Dimitri had grown a centimeter or two with pride for the following weeks, and took his position very seriously. Daud knew he could rely on him.

 "Then what seems to be the problem?" he asked. He was starting to believe every single one of his men was stalling to tell him what happened.

 Surely enough, Dimitri and Javier exchanged looks. Then Javier stepped forward. "The Lord Protector has gone missing," he said simply. "We have no idea what happened. The information is kept secret from the public under General Curnow's orders, and we only heard about it because Lady Emily spoke about it to her tutor."

 Daud stood minutely, arms falling to his sides. " _What_?"

 The Whalers flinched. "We didn't think this would be an issue," Dimitri jumped in quickly. "We never thought something might happen to _him_ , so we didn't... pay that close attention. We focused more on the young lady and the staff."

 Daud stared at them in disbelief for long enough to make them shift uncomfortably. He was aware of the presence of multiple sentries in the ruins and halls around him, having stopped what they were doing to overhear the conversation.

 "You lot go back to work," he barked, and the Whalers jumped and blinked away. "You two," he said, pointing at Javier and Dimitri. "I need you to tell me every single thing that you know."

 He rounded his desk to sit in his chair, and Dimitri and Javier tensed. Dimitri was the first to step closer, followed hesitantly by Javier. Thomas went to close the door to the office, and then took his place by Daud's side behind his desk without a word.

 Daud sat with a scowl as he listened to the story the two men told him. For most of the time, apart from keeping out of view, Tower duty was rather dull. Lady Emily's daily routine scarcely was entertaining, not for her, and not for the Whalers watching her, either. She was schooled in the mornings by her teachers, took her meal in private by herself and the Lord Protector, who apparently liked to make sure that even after dessert she was given a little time to talk to him, or just sit for a while, so she could draw and be on her own. Apparently Lady Emily had grown a horrible distaste for hagfish, her primary meal in capture and the months following with the Loyalists, and would only eat mashed potatoes at the moment. That, or sugared and fried Tyvian apples. Callista Curnow had tried correcting her, to no avail. The Lord Protector allowed it, and his word seemed to be the highest order right behind the Empress' herself. They had always been close, but Daud imagined Corvo’s standing didn’t help the rumors. But after everything that happened, accusing the young lady to be a bastard was the last thing on people’s minds, fortunately.

 After lunch, another two hours would be spent being schooled in courtly things; handwriting, speech, table manners and dancing, of course all in presence of the Lord Protector. Daud frowned when Dimitri and Javier told him of the young Empress' timetable, thinking if they wanted to drive the girl mad, they were doing a very good job at it. The late afternoon was filled with politics. Most matters of state, although discussed in her presence, were decided by a group of advisors; among others Callista and Geoff Curnow, the Lord Protector and some military and aristocrats loyal to the throne, carefully picked out by Attano. The man seemed to do most of the work himself these days, and Dimitri and Javier reported that the Lord Protector was usually the first to rise in the morning and the last to go to bed. He was seemingly everywhere; attending Emily's lessons but also keeping an eye on the City Watch.

 "He doesn't let anyone in on it, but he's clearly overworking himself," Javier said. "Young Lady Emily notices, of course. I've seen her push him to a chaise lounge after their lunch, wanting to read him a story. He fell asleep with her sitting on his lap. It was a thirty-minute nap at best, and she pretended she didn't notice, but I think she did it on purpose."

 "She's a clever girl," Daud muttered. "Sneaky, just as him. When we took her, she kicked Patrick right in the nuts. I'm pretty sure they don't teach that in court." He lit another cigarette, shaking his head a little. "She almost got away from Madame Prudence twice."

 "She hides from her tutors sometimes," Dimitri added. "Climbs trees."

 "That sounds more like things a girl her age should be doing than learning what spoon to use for what meal," Daud said, leaning back in his chair.

 Dimitri nodded, and then continued, "First time we noticed about Attano missing was yesterday morning. He wasn't there for the young Lady's breakfast. That happens sometimes, though. He's hand-picked a few men of the city watch to be around her when he can't be there, but that wasn't the case that day. I sent Leon to check with them, and they were assigned other shifts and didn't know that the Lord Protector was not at Emily's side."

 "Highly unusual," Javier affirmed.

 Dimitri nodded. "But by midday, General Curnow, together with said group of officers, was with Lady Emily, so we thought everything would be in order. But no matter what happens, Attano will always see the Lady Emily before bed. When that didn't happen yesterday, we grew very suspicious. We had a look around, and we couldn't find him anywhere at Dunwall Tower. But nobody seemed alert. We had to follow Emily around for an entire day. She only asked about him when she was alone with the Curnows for breakfast this morning."

 "So he's been gone for almost twenty-four hours now?" Daud asked glumly.

 Dimitri nodded. "At the very least, sir. They are keeping it secret though. But Emily seems to be very distressed."

 "I don't blame her," Javier muttered. "With everything that has happened." Daud shot him a warning look and he looked to his boots quickly.

 "Then today was our shift change," Dimitri continued hurriedly. "I've told Quinn and Aleksander everything before we departed for the hideout with our groups, they're on high alert now until we know what's going on." He paused for a moment, watching his master stare blankly ahead. "What should we do, sir?" he asked then. "Nothing unusual happened that any of us can report. Everyone in our groups was at their post, nobody had seen anything out of the ordinary."

 "Get me the Whaler in here who's seen him last," Daud ordered. Javier nodded and was gone instantly, only to return a few moments later with Thorpe, who bowed and stepped forward.

 "Last time I've seen the Royal Protector was the day before yesterday," he said. "He put the Young Lady Emily to bed and left her room. Me and Killian were watching the young lady from the roof opposite her balcony. Killian stayed behind to watch, and I followed Attano back to his own room. He seemed to settle for the night, and I thought nothing of it, so I left to resume my post with Killian. It must've been no later than half past nine."

 "Nothing out of the ordinary at all about the Lord Protector?" Daud asked.

 Thorpe shook his head. "Nothing, sir. Everything seemed perfectly normal. He must've gone missing that night. Nobody thought to watch him." He sounded anxious to admit it.

 Daud frowned, but before he could say anything, Dimitri raised his voice. "He's careful about it, but he uses his powers when he can," he said. "We don't know for sure when he gazes into the Void. It's possible that he already knew that we were around, although we try to keep out of his reach. The men are careful not to get too close to him, because we don't know what he would do. I've allowed it, sir."

 Daud shook his head. "It wasn't your orders to keep an eye out for him, this isn't your fault," he grumbled. All three Whalers seemed to exhale at once, shoulders visibly relaxing. Daud massaged his temple with two fingers and fell silent, staring down to his desk.

 Thomas cleared his throat politely after a while. "What will you do, sir?" he asked, prompting him before their master could fall into one of his dazes, arguing with himself in his head like he had so often since the Empress. "I suppose he could just be away on business, or be held up somewhere. It doesn't have to mean anything."

 "Without telling his Empress? I doubt it." Daud put out the second cigarette and rose to his feet. "I'll go check myself," he concluded, striding past his surprised subordinates to get to the trunk with his weapons and equipment. The Whalers exchanged looks, startled by the news, and Daud waved his hand at them. "Dismissed," he growled, and they bowed quickly and blinked away.

 

* * *

Daud hadn't been closer to Dunwall Tower than that one time when he had been to Coldridge to bust Lizzy Stride out of prison. There wasn't really a reason for him to be. Watching Emily was a task he trusted his men with as much as himself, and should they ever be spotted, it would look bad enough with one of the assassins, not to mention the Knife of Dunwall himself.

 Thomas and Dimitri came with him over the Wrenhaven to their base in the cliffs; an old, abandoned fisher hut. A small group of Whalers was left behind on their breaks, sleeping on bunk beds or sitting around a lamp, playing cards, masks discarded. They looked up when the three entered, too surprised to shuffle to their feet to stand at attention when they recognized their leader.

 "As you were," Daud muttered, and the men and women relaxed.

 "We haven't really changed the posts you originally assigned," Dimitri said, walking over to a desk by the far wall. He was a little sore to be back so soon, having looked forward to be away from this job for a few weeks, but dutifully accompanied Daud anyway. He was pointing at a map of the Tower and the surroundings that was pinned to the wall, markings in ink scribbled over it. "Only moved them a little, according to what Whaler took what post and how good they are with their powers."

 Daud looked the map over, his writing partially covered up by other hands, commenting and adding to his original draft. Lists of names and times, as well as papers with information on the guards and Emily's supervisors were pinned to the wall all around the map, and the hut reminded him a lot of his office in the hideout not so long ago. It felt weirdly... homely, besides or maybe because of how airy it was, wet with humidity from the Wrenhaven, and makeshift with its furniture.

 "The Lord Protector's room is this one," Dimitri said, pointing to a room on the third floor of the palace. "Lady Emily's chambers are here, down the same hallway. She has a balcony that is always closely locked. I've seen the Lord Protector at night, climbing the outside wall of the Tower. He is _really_ serious about exploiting all possible weaknesses."

 "It was worryingly easy to get to the Empress when we did," Daud commented gruffly. "I imagine he must have realized the same when he took care of Burrows."

 "Anyway, if you want to get into his room to check for yourself, you better take this approach over here," Dimitri said, pointing out a route over the map. "I'd suggest you wait until nightfall. There's a watchtower, but you can blink past that. The windows to his room should be locked, but you can get in via an air vent over here. As for what's inside, well..." Dimitri shrugged a little defensively. "We've always kept to the rooftops."

 "Don't worry about it, I can handle myself," Daud said, rising an eyebrow at Dimitri who hid very badly that he wondered in how good shape his master might be after being rather _inactive_ for the past months.

 "Should I come with you, master?" Thomas asked behind him, apparently thinking the same. Daud thought he sounded eager to go on a mission with him again, and although Daud would rather be on his own for this one, he nodded eventually.

 "Alright," he said. "We wait for nightfall. Dimitri, you're dismissed. Go back to the hideout, you've earned your leave." He patted him on the shoulder, almost making him stumble. "Good work," he growled, not quick with compliments but honestly satisfied. Dimitri lingered a moment as if he couldn't really believe it, and then bowed stiffly at the waist and blinked away. Daud was aware the room was staring at him. "Don't you lot have something to do?" he barked, and the Whalers quickly went back to what they were doing. He could have sworn Thomas was grinning behind his mask.

 He hadn't thought his first field mission after so many months would bring him back here, of all places.

 

* * *

 She told nobody about it, but Emily kept having bad dreams even long after she had returned to Dunwall Tower. Back in the Hound Pits Pub, Corvo had told her it would get better, once everything was over. She had believed him, leaning into the touch of his hand on her head; his hands big and warm, gentle although they were calloused and crude. They smelled of soil. Nothing made her feel quite as safe as Corvo's hands. The moment he had drawn her into his arms back at the Golden Cat, she had known everything would be alright.

 But the nightmares continued. At first, she thought it was because of the bones she found washed up at the shore of the Wrenhaven, but even after giving them to Corvo, it didn't stop. Sometimes, she just dreamed that someone was watching her, making her feel anxious for the entire day. Or it was the strange whining of whale song that made her skull rumble even after she woke up.

 Most of the time though, it was a variation of the same dream returning: herself by a lake, sitting in juicy green grass. The sun was shining, and she was watching a swan swim gracefully through the water. She was waiting for it by the shore, opening her arms to greet it. As soon as the swan would step onto land, however, a shadow would dart from the bushes: a giant wolf, its face scarred and fur red with blood. Emily would watch as it dashed for the swan, sinking its fangs into its neck. There was a flurry of blood and feathers, and the wolf was gone before Emily could even gasp, the swan to her feet spilling its blood to the floor. Most of the time, Emily would wake violently then, sweating and panting.

 But sometimes, she wasn't granted this mercy, and she would suffer through the nightmare, sitting with her white clothes soaking in blood, and the dying swan in her lap as she held it, feeling its heartbeat fade away. She would cry, but there was nobody around to hear her, nobody to draw her into a hug, shush her and tell her things would be alright.

 The swan was too big for her to carry, so she had to leave it behind when she finally stumbled to her feet, although there was nowhere for her to go, and she didn't know what to do. The bushes around the lake bore thorns, cutting her skin and ripping her clothes as she pushed through them. Everytime without fail, she would get tangled, and the more she struggled, the tighter the veins would cut into her skin. She would weep and cry for help, but there was nobody left that she knew whose name she could even call.

 But suddenly, without warning, the veines would hiss, and sink back into the ground, freeing her. Not stopping to wonder why, Emily ran forward as quickly as she could, her fine clothes torn and ragged and dirtied.

 She didn’t look like an Empress anymore, just a scared little girl, lost in the woods.

 Distantly, there was a soft noise, like the whining of a wounded dog. Because she knew nothing else to do, she followed the whimpering through the forest, until she came to a clearing. Under a statue of a swan, there was the wolf from before. It was pacing in a circle, limping on its hind legs, and Emily now realized that the blood that caked its fur was its own.

 When it noticed her, it whined and padded back into the shadow of the statue. Emily looked down at herself, realizing she was covered in the swan's blood, now mixed with her own. And while the wolf was big and looked scary with its scars and fangs, it seemed to be afraid of her. She went after it, finding it gnawing and licking at its wounds.

 They were deep cuts, tufts of fur ripped off, torn-off vines sticking in its flesh. The wolf had come the same way to the clearing as her; through the thorns. It bled from its maw, and Emily knew it was the one who had freed her, although she hadn’t seen it. Maybe it hadn’t meant to, but it was hurt and she was free again because of it.

 "You're hurt," she said. "Let me help."

 She didn't know why. This wolf had killed the swan. But now it was all that was left, and it was probably going to die if she didn't help. When she touched its fur, it was warm, and there was a heartbeat beneath it just like any other living thing.

 Waking from this version of her dream more painful than the shorter version. She had lost the swan, but she also had to see the suffering of the wolf. In this version of her dream, everyone suffered. It made her think of how the books she liked to read always ended when everyone was happy. But that wasn't how life was, was it, because life didn't just end when it was convenient. You lived on to see what happened after.

 When Corvo was gone this morning, Emily thought of her dream, wondering if there would be a scary wolf to save her.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading thus far. This is my first longer Dishonored work, and the first multichapter I've attempted in a while in the first place, so buckle up and prepare for a wild ride.
> 
> I was going to draw a cover illustration for this but I grew impatient. If I add it later I'll will let you know.
> 
> Thanks for ThisIsVenereVeritas for igniting the spark for this (although I'm sure you didn't intend to but here we are) and looking this over alongside Milo. Both of you are wonderful friends to have. Really, what would my life even be without you?
> 
> Thanks for the Dishonored fandom for being so welcoming and comfortable. I really like it here. I might just stay.


	2. Chapter 2

Security at Dunwall Tower had definitely increased. Nevertheless, the Whalers had found the perfect routines to avoid guards and watchtowers. Daud silently considered sending the Lord Protector an anonymous letter about loops in the watch's patrols when all this was over.

Quinn accompanied them across the rooftops, and once he and Thomas were inside, reaching the Lord Protector's room was more a matter of patience than skill. The door wasn't locked, and Daud slipped inside the room beyond. Thomas had offered to come along, but Daud told him he was of more use if he was on his own. The Whalers stayed out of the Tower usually, and tonight was the only time Daud planned on changing that. He sent Thomas away to gather as much information from the inside as he could, and of course the boy obeyed.

Corvo's room was dark and, when Daud shifted his vision to the Void, empty of anything living. The only people around were a maid somewhere below him, as well as Emily in her room down the hall. Daud wasn’t surprised that she had not been relocated to the luxurious, but vulnerable room overlooking the Foyer. Corvo did good having her in one of the smaller side rooms, and be in immediate proximity of her. Daud half assumed he would sit on a chair next to her when she slept, just to be sure. 

The guards assigned to watch her were patrolling the hallways, but didn't think to check the rooms. Daud scowled at that, but turned the key anyway, just in case someone got nosy after all. He planned to leave through the window, but slipped the key into his pocket should he come to need it.

It felt weird being here. He had snuck into countless private bedrooms in his life, usually with the intention to silence someone, not... see if he found anything to  _ help _ them. Weirdly enough, for the first time he felt like he was intruding. He shook his head against the feeling and stepped forward carefully.

Nothing seemed out of the ordinary. There was a bed—bigger and more comfortable-looking than anything Daud had ever owned—a trunk with clothes, several book shelves. A weapon rack holding various swords and pistols triggered his interest. Daud stepped closer when he spotted Corvo's custom-made switch blade. Daud had had the opportunity to witness it up close when his Whalers had found Corvo barely hanging on to life on a raft in the Flooded District; and painfully personally later when Corvo pressed it against his throat. It was a truly marvelous weapon that Daud had utter respect for.

The Whalers had asked why he didn't just keep all of Corvo's equipment for himself, but Daud had hushed them. He couldn't really put it into words, but after suffering from nightmares of Corvo coming to kill him, he had anticipated it to happen. He had  _ waited _ for it to happen. He had hoped that with Corvo's blade to his throat, he would find the redemption he was looking for. Tossing Corvo's weapons into the refinery had been a challenge more than anything else. He had known from the second he had laid eyes on the Lord Protector that he had no chance of winning this. Daud was a good fighter. Corvo had been a serious enemy to have before the Outsider took interest in him. With his mark, he was probably the most dangerous man in the Empire of the Isles.

To be spared by him... had been life-changing in more than one way.

Back then, Corvo had gone through great lengths to retrieve his equipment. Poisoned and weak he had made his way back to the refinery, eluding every single one of his men, even Thomas. Now, his custom blade was seemingly untouched on a rack, surrounded by various other blades like it was nothing but display. Daud was fairly certain that if Corvo had intended to leave the Tower, he would have taken his blade with him.

He hesitated only briefly before taking it from its hooks. He carefully examined the mechanism and then folded it and tucked it behind his belt. Surely the Lord Protector would appreciate to get it back, wherever he was now. Daud took it as motivation to find him.

Daud noted that he didn’t see the mask anywhere.

He turned around to face the book shelves, but there was nothing of interest there. He scanned the titles, not knowing what he was looking for, and found nothing. The desk held only official documents that were of no interest to him. He hesitated before picking up a letter that, after closer inspection, turned out to be Lady Emily  _ pretending _ to write an official document, but clearly addressed to Corvo in an endearing manner, and signed with crayon and hearts. He put it back carefully. He went through the trunks of clothing, but the only thing he found there were two punch cards for an audiograph. He looked around, but couldn't find one of the machines, which seemed odd. Usually when people recorded their memoirs, they had both cards and an audiograph ready. Daud tucked the sheets into the pocket of his coat as well.

And that was mostly it. Corvo's room wasn't big, and sparsely decorated. Clearly he only spent time in here to sleep, and from what Dimitri had told him, he didn't do that much, either. The few things that showed signs that this was the Lord Protector's room at all were the collection of weapons. Maybe the Serkonan lure that evoked distant memories in Daud; he stared at it, wondering why the Royal Protector would even have one. Lastly a few pictures, obviously drawn by Emily, hung up on the wall besides the bed, over the night table. One said “Daddy” in the unmistakably handwriting of a kid that is forced into cursive. There were rainbows involved. Daud scowled deeply at it.

He didn't find any clues as to what happened at all. It seemed like the Lord Protector had just walked away and not come back.

This had been a massive waste of time. Daud stood in the middle of the room, frowning. He crossed his arms in frustration, tapping his finger against his arm, unwilling to let it go just yet. Just to make sure he hadn't missed anything, he shifted his vision again to look around. A guard walked past the room in the halls. The letters on Corvo's desk shone, as did the pictures on the wall. Daud was about to sigh and give up when a small, yellowish shimmer caught his eye. He had overlooked it; a yellow aura meant human or at the very least live creatures, and this clearly was neither. He adjusted his vision, staring out into the darkness again, to Corvo's bed. He walked over to the night table, throwing away books and drawings from it to reveal a locked cabinet. The key to Corvo's room fit.

Daud opened the lid, leaning closer to inspect what seemed to be... a lump of flesh? It was... moving. No, more like... twitching, like it was a living organism. Made sense, it was bright yellow when he gazed into the Void again. But this was weird. Why would the Lord Protector possess such an odd thing? Frowning, Daud reached out to pick it up—

_ How dare you touch me again. _

Daud flinched and let the heart fall to the floor before the words were even done echoing through his head. No, they weren't in his head—they were in his bones, rattling him like shattering teeth. He shivered.

"Outsider's eyes," he snarled, wiping his hand on his jacket against better judgment. The organ of flesh and metal lay on the floor to his feet, thumping slowly. "What kind of a sick trick is this? How is this possible?"

There was no response, and he just stood there, panting, staring at the thing on the ground. No matter how much time passed, it convulsed slowly ever so often, the muscle beneath the wire contracting as if it still needed to pump blood through a body he just couldn't see.

He knew he hadn't imagined the voice. He knew he hadn't imagined knowing the voice, either. He would never forget this voice. Coming from loudspeakers all over the city, he had heard it for most of his stay in Dunwall, and in his nightmares, he still felt the breath of her scream on his face.

It took him a great deal of willpower to crouch down and take up the organ. It was heavy for such a small thing, and although he imagined it to be slippery and wet, it was leathery instead, and there was a discomforting warmness coming from it that he wished he wouldn't feel through his gloves.

"How is it that you're alive?" he asked, and felt stupid for talking to this...  _ thing _ , but did, anyway. "I killed you!"

The voice radiating through his body when it answered made him tremble again.  _ I am neither alive nor dead. _

He made a face, getting back to his feet. The heart lay in his left hand, and he turned it carefully, examining where the wires and tubes came from and vanished to, but he couldn't figure out how anything was connected. With every thump— _ heartbeat _ —there was a clockwork whirring inside that he could watch through a glass lens on the front. When he turned his wrist around again, he could see the mark on the back of his hand shine through his glove. Again, he grimaced.

"So this is his doing," he snarled. "That bastard."

_ Yes. I came to be in the place that is the beginning and end of all things. _

"He trapped you," Daud said grimly as it dawned on him. "You're trapped in this, aren't you..."

_ I am so cold. I wish to sleep. Lay me to rest. _

He shook his head. "Oh, no. I'm not sticking my knife in you again. Even if I did, I'm sure it would do nothing. My blade is only steel, and I know nothing the Outsider does can be as easily undone as that."

There was no answer. He held the heart in both hands now, carefully. It didn't seem fragile at all, but the longer he held it, the more afraid of breaking it he became. With its warmth and the steady, slow beating, it was almost like holding a living thing. Daud frowned at the thought, but then again, the Void didn't lie, and the Void showed it to him in bright yellow every time he checked back. It was no creature, but it was alive. Only the Outsider could be so cruel.

It was unreal, standing in the darkness of Corvo Attano's bedroom, having the voice of the late Empress wash through his body. Daud felt heavy suddenly, and he took a few steps to fall down on an arm chair that stood by the window.

"I wish I could undo what I did," he said finally. The words felt shallow and meaningless as he said them, but he couldn't stop them, either. Ever since he had taken the Empress' life, he had been meaning to say it. To her, to her daughter, to Corvo, to anyone who would listen. "I wish there was an apology. I'm... so sorry. For everything. I—had I known—"

_ The Empress cannot forgive you _ , the voice rang in his head, and his heart sunk.

"No," he muttered defeatedly. "No, of course not."

Silence fell over them. Daud knew he should leave. He had found nothing of significance, only this sick testament of what the Outsider seemed to deem amusement, and no matter how much sorrow and rage he felt with this new knowledge, it wasn’t of concern to him. He had been here for too long already, but his legs seemed too heavy to move. He just sat there with the heart beating in his hand.

_ He forgave you _ , the voice said finally, so quietly that he thought maybe he had imagined it.  _ At least, he tries to. _

He looked up at the heart, mouth twitching into a frown. "Is that supposed to make me feel better?" he asked, but the heart chose to ignore him.

_ Sometimes he cradles me late at night and listens to my voice, thinking of what he lost. Brave, humble Corvo. _

Daud put the heart back into the cabinet as quickly as he could without being too rude about it. He didn't want to know. The Empress' death pained him enough in his own mind, he didn't need to know how much the Lord Protector suffered. Should the rumors be true—and really, it was more of an unspoken truth than a rumor—he had taken so much more than he first had thought.

He decided he had to leave. There was nothing here for him, but at least he knew now that it was very unlikely that the Lord Protector had left by his own decision. Between the blade and...  _ this _ thing, Daud could not imagine him leaving like that. That, and Lady Emily's worry. No, he would never leave her side.

He got to his feet and turned to the window when he heard a noise behind him. He looked back, shifting his gaze to see past the walls, and froze. Someone was at the door, slipping a key into the keyhole. Judging from the small frame, it had to be Lady Emily, no less. Daud cursed under his breath and looked around, but there were no obvious hiding places in the Lord Protector's room anywhere. Damn his paranoia, Outsider's eyes!

He could bend time and get away through the window, he knew that. Blink up to the book shelf, lurk in the darkness until she was done. Lunge under the bed. But like an amateur, he froze in place instead, holding his breath, anticipating getting caught.

"Corvo?" he heard Emily call as she turned the key. "Is that you? Are you back?"

She pushed the door open, and dim light from the hallway poured into the room, illuminating Daud up to the knees. He blinked like in headlights of a carriage. He did nothing to slip away when she spotted him.

"Corvo!" she said, stepping into the dark room, then hesitated when her eyes adjusted.

She had worn a blindfold for most of the brief timespan their lives had overlapped, but nevertheless he could see recognition grow in her eye, and her face changed slowly as it dawned on her. Daud saw her open her mouth, and he knew he had to stop her from screaming. He hated doing it, but he was behind her with a blink, putting his gloved hand over her mouth as gentle but reassuring as he could.

"Don't scream," he said, trying to soften his voice while he kicked the door shut behind them. "I know you know who I am, but I mean you no harm. Let me explain myself, Your Majesty." She stared at him with wide eyes, and Daud answered her gaze with what he hoped was a reassuring expression. "I'm going to release you and you're not going to scream for the guards. If you remember what happened last time we met, you also remember that they won't stand a chance. Can you behave, Lady Emily?"

She nodded, and he wondered if she really meant it or was just pretending to. Surely Corvo had taught her how to behave in such situations. But either way, he released his grip on her, and she slipped away quickly, bringing distance between them as she pressed herself against one bedpost. He did nothing to stop her.

"You are the one who killed mother!" she said. Her voice was soft, but shaking. There was much anger and hurt there, but... surprisingly little fear.

He straightened, hands raised carefully to his sides as a sign that he would not do anything. It probably meant nothing to her. She knew he was marked, didn't she? She had to. Corvo was marked, and surely she would know  _ that _ .

"Yes," he admitted, willing his voice to be calm. "I killed her, because Hiram Burrows paid me for it, and your Lord Protector let me live when he could have killed me."

Emily frowned. Bringing up Corvo seemed like a good tactic, because she hesitated. At least she wasn't screaming. There was a silence between them and he didn't dare to breathe as she silently stared him down. He could see emotion mirroring in her face so easily. He watched her features change subtly as she was thinking hard and fast, measuring her options. She really was a clever girl.

"He told me about you," she said finally, carefully. "After we went back home together, and everything went back to normal. He told me what happened. He mentioned you, too. Daud, is it, right?"

He just nodded.

"Corvo said you work for coin and that you were a tool as much as him," Emily added. She was still pressing herself against the bed post to be as far away from him as possible, but in her face, there was defiance.

He almost grinned at her words but managed to not let his frustration show. "A wise man, your Lord Protector," he muttered. "More than I could ever hope to be."

She frowned at him. He stood perfectly still, arms still raised to his sides. He could see her shoulders relax very slowly. "I've read a book about you," she mentioned, and for a moment he was surprised by the non-sequitur. "It said you're a flurry of metal and blood."

Of course she would have read that, of all things. Daud flared his nostrils. "That book's a bunch of whale crap," he grunted.

He thought he saw a smile flash on her lips, but it was a brief moment. "My advisors would rather you didn't use this kind of language around me," she scolded, and he flinched a little, realizing that he was talking to a little girl but  _ also _ his Empress. But before he could say anything, she added, "But I don't mind. The Admiral was worse." She took a step away from the bed post. He instead stepped back, so that the distance between them remained the same. "What are you doing here?" she wanted to know, looking up at him.

Daud nodded at the room. "The Lord Protector," he said.

Her face lit right up. "Do you know where he is?" she asked. "Is he with you?"

He shook his head. "No," he said. "I heard he's gone missing, and I wanted to check if there is anything I could find out about what happened."

She looked saddened by the news, staring down to her shoes. But clearly she was thinking again, and then he could see her frown as she looked at him again. "Why would you care?" she asked, and he shrugged a little.

The truth was, he didn't really know. It certainly wasn't his business to bother. People vanished in Dunwall every day, even now. A new Empress on the throne didn't change people's behavior over night. He still got demands for his services every week. Why should he care that the Lord Protector was gone?

But he hated mystery, and Corvo disappearing into thin air was nothing but. So here he was.

"I want you to look for him," Emily interrupted his thoughts, and he felt his hands sink to his sides as he stared at her.

"What?"

“I would do it myself, but they won’t let me.” Emily huffed a little, frustrated over the adult who ruled over her life. Then she pushed her chin up, standing on her toes a little to make herself taller. "Corvo said he's never met anyone like you in his life."

"Well, I—" Daud started to say.

"He said he defeated you, but only barely," Emily continued, raising her voice a little to talk over him. "He said you're good a good man, you just went down the wrong path."

"Is that a compliment?" Daud muttered.

She didn't even listen anymore at this point. "Corvo said you want to be forgiven for what you've done. Right? So work for me instead." She came a step closer, and he edged away again. "I'm Empress! I will pay you double what the Spymaster paid, if you want, for bringing him back. Will you do it?"

"You don't have to pay me, Your Majesty," he muttered. "I was gonna look for him anyway."

"I would rather you took the money, so I could be sure you're loyal," Emily said. "Trusting an assassin's word is probably a bad idea."

Daud could only stare at her, at a loss for words. He was baffled by how hardboiled this little girl had become. She had grown up so much since he had last seen her. "I take one third of the payment up front," he finally managed to say.

"Very well," she said, her voice mimicking how she knew adults spoke. "I will talk to the master of finances and send you an offer."

"Lady Emily—" Daud tried, but she shook her head forcefully, making her hair bounce.

"You don't talk back to the Empress!" she said sharply. Daud didn't. "Corvo is all I have left in this world," Emily continued, looking down to her hands. Suddenly, there was so much sadness there again, and Daud panicked a little, wondering what he was supposed to do should she start crying. She changed emotions so quickly. "You took my mother from me. Bring me back Corvo, and maybe you'll be forgiven for what you've done."

She was so much like her mother, Daud realized. She had her hair, and her lips. But in her eyes, she bore the same sadness he had seen in Corvo. He didn't hesitate then. He drew his blade and stepped forward, and he could see her flinch in fear when he came toward her, but instead of harming her, he knelt down. Even like this, she was barely his height.

"I pledge loyalty to you, Your Highness," he said, lowering his head and raising the sword. "If you would have me, I wish to serve you until my dying breath, and maybe earn redemption. No, the word of an assassin does not mean much, but I have always been a man of action, not words. I swear by—your mother that I’ll bring the Royal Protector back."

Emily stared at him. He kept his head down, breathing calmly. Everything seemed to make so much sense all of a sudden. Everything he had done had lead up to this point. He had thought his last role to play in this game was over, but apparently it wasn’t just yet.

So many things the Outsider had said, and kept to himself hidden behind a fleeting smile, fell into place then. Daud had killed the late Empress, and saved her child from the doom by the hand of one of the Outsider’s chosen. He had been spared by the man he now would retrieve. Everything made so much sense. 

Finally, Lady Emily hesitantly touched his shoulder. He looked up, and she nodded a little. “I accept your offer,” she said softly.

He was beginning to see the big picture. For the first time in many years, he felt like he could see the surface.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm gonna be honest: I am struggling with this fic. A lot. The long wait for this chapter is a sign. I had it finished roughly in December, and it took me until now to polish it and get it out there. I mentioned that I scarcely do longer works, and this is why.
> 
> I wonder if I should keep going. At this point, I really need to know if you think this is worth it. I honestly for the life of me cannot say whether this is good or not, and with many other writers picking up similar plots, I ask for your feedback. What did you like, what didn't you like? Is this story exciting enough that I should continue? Am I doing a good enough job?
> 
> Please let me know what you think. At this point, your opnion is crucial.
> 
> With that said, many thanks to fellow writers Milo, ThisIsVenereVeritas and puppyblue for their support. I don't know what I'd do without you, and I apologize for being such a pain.


End file.
